


if you stay (keep your heart away)

by fulmentus



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Light Angst, alex and ruby are... vaguely present
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 20:44:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14221458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fulmentus/pseuds/fulmentus
Summary: Kara stays. She stays and stays and stays, and Lena has no idea what to do with that. With Kara there, present, not disappearing.or, four times lena's afraid kara will leave, and one time kara is.





	if you stay (keep your heart away)

****Kara stays.

She stays and stays and stays, and Lena has no idea what to do with that. With Kara there, _present_ , not disappearing. Not becoming a wisp of smoke in the air, curling lifelessly around the open atmosphere as her hands grope for something tangible, someone who isn’t there anymore.

(Like Lex, she thinks, when the world is dark and nightmares haunt her even while she’s awake.

Like Jack, whose pained grunts echo in her ears whenever she thinks she can be _happy,_ just for a moment.)

But Kara stays. And she doesn’t show any signs of leaving, and Lena’s hands shake with the realization that maybe she can keep something good in her life for once. That maybe, just maybe this is the second chance she wished for when she left Metropolis.

When she left Sam and Ruby behind to escape the shadows that drowned her on all sides, the evidence of her brother’s crimes stacking and stacking, forever prevalent in the crumpled remains of formerly towering skyscrapers, in the scars that run deeper than the earth.

(The scars that run parallel to the blood in her veins, black and oozing, and a reminder of who she _is_.)

Kara stays, with her bright smiles, her blue eyes as clear as the sky after rain, as the ocean just as the sun rises from below the horizon. She stays, her presence gentle but steady, a constant reminder that Lena isn’t alone.

“I’m not going to let you go through this by yourself,” Kara promises her, arms circled strongly around Lena’s shoulders, her lips against her temple. “Not this time. Not ever.”

And oh, for that moment, Lena believes her. Twists her fingers into the material of Kara’s shirt and buries her face into Kara’s neck. Relishes in the warmth that seems to pulsate from Kara’s entire being.

///

Kara stays, and Lena starts to panic.

Not, not because she’s afraid Kara’s going to _leave_ — though she still does fear that when she watches Kara get thrown into buildings by aliens three times her size because _yes_ she knows — but because her heart is thrumming painfully in her chest. Fluttering whenever Kara is near.

Alex teases her for it, says that she’s being _obvious_ , but Lena doesn’t know what it is she’s being so blatant about. Her pulse skitters in every direction whenever Kara so much as smiles her way, a flash of teeth that rivals the sun.

And somewhere between _that’s what friends are for_ and _I will always protect you_ , Lena’s heart betrayed her entirely and fell for the one person she is terrified to love.

(Alex eyes her knowingly whenever Lena jerks at contact between herself and Kara, something soft and sympathetic in her eyes.

Lena is helpless to stop it.)

Kara is Supergirl, a hero, a savior, a beacon of hope in a world intent on collapsing in on itself, and Lena can’t, _can’t_ , tarnish that. Not with the darkness that shadows her, the pain and suffering that trails in her wake.

It’s not just her brother, but her mother, as well. She carries ghosts of the mad, the people who were so hell-bent on convincing the world that they were destined to be gods.

( _He parades around Metropolis like he’s some sort of god,_ Lex hisses, lips curled in a snarl, a spitting image of rage, _like we are beneath him._ )

But Kara is still here, and too good for a wayward soul like Lena’s, destined to see the world burn because no matter what she does, the universe makes sure to set Lena on the fast-track to villainy. If not by her own doing, then by that of her family’s.

Her mother, setting her up to be incarcerated. Her brother, desperately trying to kill her. The world itself, placing its livelihood in her hands as though tempting her to choose selfishness, to choose what _she_ wants for once.

She saved the alien race from the Medusa virus, put her mother in jail, and got nothing. She helped Supergirl prevent a mass deportation of aliens and was shoved off the roof for it. She pushed a button to save Supergirl rather than Jack.

The world has been in the palm of her hands too many times to be mere coincidence, and Lena is _tired_ of proving herself over and over and over, only to receive doubt in return.

And Kara...

God, Kara. Always the believer, always the one to sway her self-perception to that of something better, brighter, and _you’re so good, Lena._

How can she not fall for that? What chance did she even have?

So she panics, dives neck-deep into her work. Tries to convince herself that it’s better this way, shoving her emotions down, down, down like the Luthors taught her to. Kara deserves better than the love Lena has for her. Deserves not to be in danger, not to be ruined.

Because everything Lena loves breaks and shrivels (and _leaves_ ).

Lex went mad, Lionel died, _Jack_ died. Sam and Ruby mere wisps in her memory, bright smiles and the golden glow of late summer evenings.

Yet Kara is steadfast. And Lena swallows her feelings, hoping that if she buries them deep enough, they’ll be snuffed out, disappear.

When her distance grows too much and Kara wanders into her office, brow creased with worry, Lena apologizes, admits that she was afraid. Of what, she doesn’t name. But Kara, ever so perceptive, gets it anyway.

Or, part of it at least.

“You’re not like them, Lena,” Kara assures her, a soft smile on her face, a warm hand on Lena’s. “Besides, even if you were, I’d still be here, believing in the goodness _I know_ is inside of you.

Lena remains tight-lipped but feels a little lighter. Because Kara stays.

( _She won’t if she knows_ , a tiny voice in her mind whispers.

And Lena double-checks the lock on her feelings, shoves it down a bit more for good measure.)

///

Acquiring CatCo was both an impulse decision as well as an attempt to buy herself back into Kara’s good graces — not that Lena plans to be that forthright with Kara if she ever asks.

It’s just, there are only so many times Lena can be blown off before she starts thinking and fitting puzzle pieces together to form a picture. Albeit, the picture may not be the right one, not pristine nor clearcut, but the type of puzzle that the pieces slot together but don’t _match_.

But Kara, Kara promised to stay, didn’t she?

Lena understands grief, understands losing a loved one, so she _gets_ that Kara needs space. Needs time to mourn the loss of... _him_. And really, buying CatCo was Lena’s way of trying to apologize. Because regardless of Kara assuring Lena that it wasn’t her fault, Lena doesn’t quite believe her.

Not when she was the one who inadvertently helped Rhea, the one who brought the Daxamites to National City, the one who sent Mon-El away. And there’s a space in her chest, hollow between her ribs, that aches with guilt.

That bleeds black whenever she so much as glances upon Kara because oh, it’ll be her own fault if Kara leaves.

Alex tries to talk to her, but being a mediator between someone too kind to cast blame and someone who drowns herself in it, steeps herself to the marrow with _fault_ , is taxing. Alex has a life after all.

So Lena stays away, shoves the apologies that sit thick and cloying on her tongue further down, keeps contact between her and Kara to work only, afraid that if she pushes and pushes too hard, Kara might break.

But Sam — because Sam is here now in National City, thank _god_ — Sam knows exactly what Lena’s doing. Hiding yet not. Hoping to cross a rocking bridge with little to no footing, not brave enough to take that leap.

(Because Lena loves Kara, but Kara’s mourning the loss of the man _she_ loved. And how is Lena supposed to help remedy that when she is the cause?)

“You know, I thought the going home early rule applied to you too.”

Lena stills her hand, the tip of the pen hovering over the reports she was reading. She looks to her office door, sees Sam, bathed in the white light of the hallway, Ruby tucked into her side blinking sleep from her eyes.

She shrugs one shoulder, goes back to her papers. “For anyone but the CEO,” she amends in that moment.

“Lena…”

And there’s something in Sam’s tone that has Lena hesitating, something that sounds like sympathy and knowing and she _can’t_ know, can she? Can’t know that Lena has retreated to her ivory tower in the hopes that she can _avoid_ Kara at this point.

(Because her heart aches, has grown far too fond of Kara’s presence, and she can’t force that on Kara right now.)

“I thought you wanted to stay at CatCo for the time being?”

Sam’s closer now, standing right before her desk, the single lamp at the corner casting shadows across her face. Ruby sits on the couch head listing backward onto the cushions.

Lena considers Sam for a moment, green flicking between brown, and, “I did,” she concedes, shuffling the papers around on her desk, “but I wanted to check on a few things.”

“Is that your way of saying I’m doing a terrible job?” Sam asks, and Lena opens her mouth, ready to refute, but Sam laughs. “I’m joking, Lena. Calm down.”

She seats herself across from Lena, leans forward on her elbows, brows drawn worry. “What’s going on?”

“I’m fine, Sam.” And god, Lena feels her fingers tremble around her pen, fear and resignation and, and _hurt_ all pushing to the forefront. Scraping the back of her throat.

“Does it have to do with Kara?” Lena grips the pen more firmly, doesn’t say a word, and Sam sighs. “What happened between you two?”

“You know,” Lena says in lieu of answering, “when I called you out here to give you a job, it wasn’t to play my therapist.” She arches a brow, daring Sam to continue her line of questioning, but she should have known it would do nothing to deter her.

(It’s the _mother_ in her, Lena supposes.)

“I’ve seen you afraid before Lena,” Sam says, and it’s quiet, soft. And Lena snaps her mouth shut because oh, she has, hasn’t she? Seen Lena at her lowest, offered her a shoulder and a warm hug even when Lena insisted she didn’t need it. “You look the same way now.”

(Fear is something she’s used to. Fear was a constant companion when she was four years old, wandering the halls of the Luthor Mansion, lost and confused and wanting a _home_.

Fear was there when Lex’s eyes gleamed with madness, his tongue lashing with words of cruel and vicious sentiment.)

“What are you afraid of Lena?” Sam extends a hand, wraps her fingers loosely around Lena’s hand still gripping her pen. “You don’t have to be alone in this.”

And oh, it sounds like Kara, like Kara’s gentle sunlight washing through her bones, only to leave Lena cold and empty when she leaves, missing something she never knew she needed.

“I love her,” Lena reveals, brings her other hand up to her forehead, pinches the skin there between her fingers. “I love her, but I hurt her, Sam.” She levels her gaze, meets Sam’s with a green that burns in the lowlight. Sucks in a breath before letting it out again. “I love her, and I’m terrified she’ll leave if she knew.”

The grip around her hand tightens. “Why would she leave? Anyone would be lucky to be loved by you, Lena.” Sam smiles, tender as she casts a look to her slumbering daughter. The creases around her eyes soften. “I’d know.”

“Because everyone I’ve ever loved leaves,” Lena sighs out, tired and drained, her hand coming down to hide the quiver of her lips. “No one stays.”

There’s a beat of silence, the ticking of her watch all she hears, coupled with Ruby’s snuffled breathing from the couch, the distant sounds of the city below. Sam looks to be fighting to form words, mouth opening and closing as she fumbles.

“I stayed,” Sam says at last, tilts her head a little to the side, soft waves of hair spilling over her shoulder. “Well, I tried to.”

 _You pushed me away_ , is what Lena hears. The same way Kara is pushing Lena way now, putting up a front Lena is far too accustomed to seeing in the mirror to be fooled by.

The same way Lena pushes her emotions so far out the metaphoric window because she’s staring into that abyss, terrified of outcomes she can’t determine.

///

Kara is falling and falling, an angel descending through the air, blonde tresses a disarray, her cape flapping aimlessly in the wind as she drops, hits the ground, the earth cracking when she lands.

Lena watches, wide-eyed and terrified, wanting to reach for her, run to her side, but she’s frozen in place by the cold between her bones, the stitching of fear between her ribs.

The rest of the world is drowned out, the sounds of approaching sirens, of Alex and other black-clad agents rushing onto the scene, the mournful cries of fellow witnesses, all of it muffled. Lena hardly hears any of it, blood roaring in her ears.

James says something beside her, but she doesn’t register it. Her legs jerk as though to move, and she finds herself drawn by the magnetic pull of Kara’s presence, of her crumpled form being surrounded.

 _You promised,_ Lena wants to scream. _You promised I wouldn’t be alone._

Heat rises to her eyes, and she clenches her jaw, tightly enough that she feels the ache of it. Alex takes Kara away, presumably somewhere safe for her to recuperate.

But Lena feels cold, so cold.

Because she’s known all along that her love brings nothing but pain and suffering. She just hoped she never swept Kara up in its warpath.

But now, _now_ , Kara is probably fighting for her life back at whatever clandestine government organization Alex works with — because it’s certainly not the FBI — and Lena’s here, standing in the aftermath of the chaos.

She draws a shuddering breath, and it feels like swallowing nails and shards of glass, tearing at the seams that hold her together.

Everyone she’s ever loved has left in some way or another, but _not like this_ , she begs.

_Please not like this, Kara._

///

Kara tells Lena of Krypton and of her true identity under a blanket of stars.

It’s a strange sort of nebulous space, a time slot carved out between their cluttered schedules, when Kara offers her hand, cape whipping in the chilly night air.

With just a little hesitance, Lena allows herself to be cradled against Kara’s warmth and flown out of the city, far enough from the brilliant lights of National City that the stars seem limitless against the black canvas. Untainted by pollution.

And Kara speaks quietly, words barely above a hush, resigned to the fact that Lena knows — has known for quite some time — who she is.

It’s here, beneath scintillating stars, that Kara’s walls crumple, and Lena’s barriers come fully down. And she sees Kara for what feels like the first time, blue eyes silver in the darkness, mouth twisted in nostalgic remembrance.

Her arms extend above them, pointing to a space between the glimmering lights, scanning the sky of a cosmos so different from her own, longing pinching her brow, tugging at her lips. “That’s where Krypton is.” She blinks, laughs a quiet, subdued laugh. “ _Was_.”

(Lena thinks of Kara, young and just landed on Earth, hurt and fear in her eyes as she looks to the sky in hopes of seeing at least one thing familiar to her.

Thinks of the sadness Kara felt then, the isolation, knowing that she’ll never gaze upon the glory of her planet ever again.

Thinks of how hard it must be for Kara to stay here.)

“I was afraid of telling you,” Kara starts, still uncertain and hesitant, and Lena reaches for her hand, squeezes it gently. “Because I’ve lost everything before.” The blue of her eyes burns brighter, glow with unshed tears. “My home, my parents, everyone I knew.”

She gestures between them then, shifts her hand so that their fingers twine. “I didn’t want that to happen again.”

And oh, Lena feels her throat tighten, her heart pounding, hard and fast against her ribs, a traitor of an organ.

“Never,” she whispers firmly, moving so that their shoulders touch and their fronts brush against each other. She places her other hand on Kara’s chest, resting just above the resplendent crest, meets Kara’s searching eyes, wide and glazed with wonder. “ _Never_.”

She leans up just as Kara tips forward, and they kiss beneath the twinkling pinpricks, tangled in each other’s arms, soft and quiet like the stars watching above them.

Love in the place of fear (love not ruining something, _someone_ , Lena holds so dear to her heart).

Kara slides her arms around her waist, pulls Lena a little closer, their heads still pressed together as she lifts them slowly into the air, drifting aimlessly through an ocean of distant constellations.

And Kara stays.

(And oh, Lena stays, too.)

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!  
> title from: up to you - echosmith


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